


Tears in the Rain

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020/21 [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agent Carter (TV) Compliant, Bisexual Peggy Carter, F/F, Gay Panic, Injury, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Time Travel, Time Travelling Lesbians, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: “All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.”The reader is a physicist from 2020, laughed at by her peers for dedicating her life to the research of time travel. They call her work an impossible dream, a waste of resources. That is until her experiments with an unusual alien substance actually proves the possibility of moving through time. As quickly as the results come in, her machinary fails and a catastrophic explosion catapults the reader back to 1947.Trapped in the past, the reader seeks out the only person capable of assisting her return back to 2020: Howard Stark. While working together with the arrogant but genius billionaire, the reader crosses paths with Peggy Carter and falls instantly and hopelessly for the beautiful agent.The pair become fast friends and it soon becomes clear to her that Peggy also feels their connection but deeply ingrained attitudes of the time stop her from acknowledging it until a near deadly accident causes her to reassess everything.But, just as the pair begin to act on their feelings for one another, the reader is faced with a tough choice: stay in the past with Peggy or take the single chance to return back to her home in 2020.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Reader
Series: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020/21 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906972
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

“Powering down. Experiment one – twenty – beta: successful.”

The lab was empty so your narration was more for your own records than the safety of anyone else. Still, your professors from university would no doubt be proud of your diligence – once they stopped laughing at your work. The opinions of others had never held you back before, though, and you refused to let the naysayers influence and disrupt your research. You’d worked too hard to throw in the towel now.

A true thing of beauty, the machine bought joy to your heart. As a scientist, you should never have allowed your emotions to overwhelm your logical nature but this was a true masterpiece. For years, your peers had done nothing but express their doubts over your ambitious project. At best, they politely turned down invitations to work on the device with you. At worst, they had outright called you crazy when presented with your theories. However, if they could see this magnificent display of engineering, you were confident it would change their minds.

Two large cylinders flanked a rounded platform in the centre, connected by a host of tubes and wires so complex in design that you could barely follow the pathways despite having overseen every single aspect of their design. A small test chamber sat elevated precisely in the centre. Months of non stop production had created the perfectly smooth metal surfaces, the absolute highest quality on the market. Just one metre of the experimental vibranium sheet was worth more than a car. Not even Stark Industries had spent so much money this past quarter as you but you knew it was absolutely worth it.

If the construction of the basic machine was both costly and difficult, it was nothing compared to the creation of the superfluid which would fill the cylinders. T2-AVM. An accidental discovery which had been the original sparking idea for this entire project, uncovered within what had at the time been a suspected meteor but actually turned out to be debris from an ancient alien vessel of some kind, it was unlike anything else in existence. A single drop was so dense, so charged, that the properties were practically unique.

Already you had seen the incredible things it was capable of. The gravitation effect produced by one millilitre held inside a high powered electromagnetic had been measured up to a hundred feet away. Pulsating waves of rapidly varying increased and decreased gravity had shattered beakers in neighbouring labs, levitated pencils and even caused a hairline fracture in a poor lab tech’s arm.

Five millilitres of the substance melted with titanium and moulded into a ring allowed you to lift almost one hundred kilos with a single hand. Ten millimetres injected into your building reactor cells produced enough power to run your entire city for over a month. It was truly remarkable, beyond anything you had encountered before.

Unable to wipe the grin from your face, you set the tablet on your workbench and scanned the initial data again. The readings oscillated between two numerical values, a slight change but enough to suggest that you were absolutely right in your hypotheses. The gold particles inside the testing chamber were almost 90 nanoseconds younger than the control. Your machine had worked; you’d sent them into the future.

Time travel was real. 

A knock on the glass drew your attention from the miraculous data and your grin grew even wider at the friendly face you saw. Waving her in, you practically jumped on Leena. Her safety goggles perched perfectly on the top of her shaved head, she perched on the edge of your table, a softly amused glint in her eye. “Good day?”

“You have no idea.” You swept the tablet off the workbench just before she sat on it and slapped it into her hands. All pretence at professionalism gone, you exclaimed, “Look at these results, Lee! I finally have proof that I was right!”

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Open your eyes! It’s right there in the top corner.”

“Oh, right. Sure thing.” She hummed thoughtfully and patted you on the back, clearly happy for you even if she didn’t quite understand why. Rolling your eyes, you took back the tablet and resisted the urge to shove it in her face. All considered, you doubted that would do much good.

Bouncing on your toes, the euphoria of your results hard to shake, you explained in as calm a way as you could manage when it felt as if you entire world had just shifted into a brand new, wonderful age. “So you know that the T2-AVM sample has the ability to manipulate gravity. Cause local fluctuations and minor earthquakes and stuff.”

“Yeah… You still owe me a new mug, by the way.”

“Yes, I know, I know. I did try to catch it. I did! And I already apologised for that anyway.”

Leena frowned. “No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

“I took you out for dinner.”

“That was a date, not an apology.”

“The apology was the great sex afterwards.”

“I didn’t say it was great.”

“The way you screamed? It was definitely great.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, rolling it the way she always did when she was embarrassed or horny. Judging by the lacy bra which peaked out from beneath her tightly fitting blouse, you suspected that it might currently be both and you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.

However, a quickie in the lab was not currently on your mind – great though it would have been, and perhaps there would be time for a celebratory shag once you’d collected all of your data – so you continued without stopping for another breath. “Anyway, this machine converts the compound into a superfluid which then runs through the coils and generates an extreme localised gravitational force. This test directed all that energy at a few particles of gold and bent the fabric of space-time around them, protecting them from the normal flow of time.

“When the field collapsed, they reintegrated with the rest of the matter in the universe. The numbers in the top show the age of the particles and confirm that, compared to the control particles, they are younger by a few nanoseconds.”

“You’re so hot when you talk shop.”

You lightly backhanded Leena’s arm but joined her up on the workbench anyway. Shuffled up against her side, you quickly found her hand and drew swirling patterns across her knuckles, admiring the bright new shade of nail polish. It wasn’t a colour you’d seen on her before but the way it contrasted with her skin was stunning.

As you stared into the experimentation chamber, the vibranium infused glass shimmered with curiously intricate patterns. It was almost as fascinating a substance as T2-AVM. You rest your head on Leena’s shoulder and sighed contently. Eyes flickering shut, you tried to commit every detail of this moment to memory. Her sweet perfume and soft skin. The joy and excitement in your chest. The steady beeping of your machinery.

You couldn’t recall the last time your life had been going so well. Your research was flourishing, your benefits arrangement-slash-relationship with Leena suited your life perfectly and you were happy. A stark contrast to just last year but the most welcome of changes.

“Doctor…”

Oh, you loved when Leena used your title. It twisted your insides and made you want to do unspeakable things up against the fume cupboard. Perhaps analysing the data could wait until tomorrow after all.

You sat up straight and turned to face her, shocked by her paling expression. “What’s wrong?”

For the first time in years, Leena couldn’t find the words and her jaw hung slack as she pointed across the lab to the experimentation chamber. You followed her gaze and instantly jumped to your feet, frantically efficient in your response. Logic over emotion. The only way to deal with a crisis.

Already donning your protective clothing, the oversized boots and thick suit also lined with vibranium as it was the only thing known to reduce the effects of T2-AVM, you slammed the alarm button and yelled, “Check the readouts. Lee! Tell me what the sensors are saying. Leena! Snap out of it.”

“But… Y/N… Look at it.”

“Yes, I have eyes.” Your brain might not have actually believed what they were seeing but it was pretty impossible to miss. The cylinders were bubbling like crazy as the superfluid inside reacted to… something. The clear substance had taken on a darker colour, something between a deep crimson red and a royal purple, almost like someone had captured a sunset. Only, this wasn’t a pretty sunset. It was a catastrophic meltdown of your reaction chambers. 

Sealing your hazard suit wasn’t easy with the thick, clumsy gloves on but you didn’t have time to waste on perfection. A quick check confirmed that all the valves on your breathing apparatus were properly sealed and as you tucked the shiny trousers into the clunky boots, you shouted, “Come on, Leena, I need to know what I’m walking into.”

Finally prompted into action, Leena grabbed the tablet and frantically flicked through the readouts. Still awaiting her analysis of the situation, the sparks from the curled wires now almost a continuous curtain illuminating the back wall of the chamber, you waved your arms in the air angrily. “Tell me what’s malfunctioning now, Lee!”

“Everything!”

Well, that was helpful. Grateful for the thick, tinted panel which hid your glare, you tried to calm your nerves against the ever present reminder from the alarm that you had minutes at most to save your research before it took the entire physics lab with in the imminent implosion.

Unable to trust her judgement, you stomped across the lab and snatched the tablet from Leena’s hands. She mumbled an apology but it was lost beneath the mass of noise. Outside, people were rushing past your lab now, sparing a moment to glance in at the disaster before rightfully heading towards the emergency exit.

“Get out of here, Leena.”

“I won’t -”

“Yes, you will.” You grabbed her shoulders and pushed her towards the door. If you made it out of this alive, you’d apologise for the rough treatment tomorrow. If you didn’t… Well, that was one less problem to worry about.

The data from the chamber sensors was streaming onto the tablet at such speed that you barely had time to take in the readings before they changed again. Just as you formed a suspicion that the gravitational energy was building at an incredibly dangerous rate the floor shook beneath your feet, conclusively proving that hypothesis.

Cracks appeared in the walls and dust rained down from above. Safe in your suit, you were able to ignore the distraction but Leena wasn’t. Already choking on the particles in the air, fingers clawing at her throat as she fought to draw breath, you shoved her out the lab and locked the door behind her. She frantically banged on the glass but it was reinforced and all her attempts to shatter it were futile.

“I’m sorry.”

She would never hear your whisper through the thick barrier but Leena was an intelligent woman and guessed your message anyway. Tears leaving obvious marks on her face as they rolled through the dust, Leena pressed a kiss to her fingers and threw it your way before turning on her heels and racing towards the exit with everyone else in the lab.

You hovered for a few moments until she turned the corner and disappeared from view. Heart so tight in your chest that you almost feared a heart attack, you shook sense into your mind and turned back to the experimentation chamber.

Even vibranium could shatter under the right conditions and if your quick mental calculations were correct you had less than three minutes before the containment glass fractured and released the pent up energy stored in the machine. You had no idea what exposing T2-AVM to that level of high radiation energy would do. Of course, you could guess but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to find out.

With no other option present, you keyed in the multiple security codes needed to unlock the chamber door and stepped straight into the heart of the meltdown. Sparks flew from the coils above, drawn to your suit. For now, you were protected but you still felt the jolts where they connected. Another few well placed shocks would short out your breathing equipment and then you really would be in the shit.

Despite that impending doom – so many possible ways to die now facing you that you could almost ignore them all completely – you stepped up onto the central platform and started to tug on the wires overhead. You knew the function of each and every one of these; if anyone could come up with a solution, it was you.

Boosted up by the miniature testing chamber, you tore a cooling vent from the roof and wired it directly into the first of the cylinders housing the superfluid. You were fighting gravity with each movement more painful, more difficult and draining than the last as space time bent around you.

Thankfully, the effect of your fix was instant: the dark red-purple solution turned white, solidifying into sharp jagged crystals which absolutely shredded the vibranium containment cylinder. That didn’t matter, though, because it did the job. The shaking decreased and the sparks faltered for a moment.

However, you weren’t about to celebrate a victory yet.

You turned your attention to the second cylinder, still red and very, very angry. Hand on the testing chamber to balance yourself as you reached up, a bolt of energy suddenly arced in your direction. The jolt sent you flying backwards and you hit the reinforced wall with one hell of a crash.

Opening your eyes was a task and when you did you saw doubles of everything. You grabbed onto the wire in your hand and pushed yourself to your feet, stumbling towards the cylinder. As you toppled forward, you once again slammed your head against a hard surface and the world shifted before blackness enveloped you completely.

When you eventually came to, it wasn’t in a hospital in 2020. It was in an alley in 1947.


	2. Chapter 2

The darkness was never ending. No matter which way you turned, the thick, slimy blackness engulfed you. Even through the protective suit, you could feel the oily shadows creeping up your arm. Your heart raced, the loud pounding in your ears enough to ignite a spiral of fear and panic.

You turned but nothing changed. Like a passenger trapped in your own body, you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything. At times life had been cruel but you’d always believed that death would be kinder. Apparently not.

Deeper and deeper you fell until the very act of thinking hurt. You lost your mind in the silence between heart beats as the emptiness cut away at your soul. Drifting forever alone in this living darkness, inside this beastly hole, 3 single words remained.

_Logic over emotion. Logic over emotion._

The mantra looped in your brain, words of power that grounded you. The panic faded, not entirely but into something far more manageable. A small flame flickering in the back of your mind, casting dangerous shadows of doubt but small enough to blow out if necessary. That wasn’t a course you wanted to take, though, seeing that a little fear was healthy. It pushed you forward, would keep you moving until you freed yourself from this awful purgatory.

You opened your eyes and stared out defiantly into the shadows, searching for something, anything, to lead you away from this place. What you found was, frankly, disappointing at best, utterly heartbreaking at worst. You were alone, lost in the blackness, with not even a single spot of colour to guide you.

But this was no place for pessimism. You simply couldn’t afford to lose yourself to that. There had to be a way out and you would find it. Something had opened a path into this hell. It was just a matter of working out what so you could then focus on a way of reversing it. Of course, that would be difficult without any of your equipment or supplies…

No. Positivity. You were brilliant. You could do this.

Falling back into the darkness, you allowed the shadows to cradle you. It was a strange feeling, floating in nothingness, but shockingly comforting at the same time. There was something so instinctual about just drifting on an invisible current, passing through this space, feeling the weightlessness of your body. It set your mind free, allowed it to wander a separate path of wild possibilities, no longer held back by your physical form.

Except…

There was a weight holding you back. Only small, like a thin string tugging a kite out of the air, but undeniable. Returning to your body, you focused on locating the source. Closing your eyes made little different visually – darkness was darkness regardless – however mentally the effect was almost instant.

Your choice, your shadows, filled with strange patterns and noise as your optic nerves struggled to cope with the lack of stimuli. The psychedelic light show soon passed as you methodically tested each part of your body against the strange weightlessness. Your toes wiggled easily, your ankles clicked as you twisted them but that was not unusual. Knees bent, legs extended. Hips circled, shoulders back, right hand fine, left hand… 

There. Your ring. A titanium alloy embedded with T2-AVM. You couldn’t put into words what you were feeling other than certainty that you were right: that was what held you back.

Suddenly the events of the lab came rushing back to you. The success of 1-20-β and the gold particles. The energy overload and unstable reaction of T2-AVM. Leena. Oh, Leena. You hoped she had made it out safely before your machines imploded the building. Of course you hoped everyone else had escaped too but more her above the rest.

You pushed thoughts of Leena aside. She was a smart woman and definitely made it out alive. There was no room for doubt. You would see her again as soon as you figured a way out of this place. And now you knew how to do that.

T2-AVM had somehow brought you into this place and it had to be the key to getting out of it.

Possessed by madness, you twisted your left glove free and exposed the ring to the blackness. Incredibly stupid, seeing how you had no idea whether an atmosphere existed here or not, but the only way you could foresee an escape. Better to die in flames than live in the cold.

The effect was remarkable. Suddenly the shadows burst to life. The oily swirling currents glowed red and purple, the very same way your cylinders had back in the lab, and as they flowed into your protective suit, swallowing both you and the ring, they shone like luminescent flowers in the darkness. Bright spots and swirls danced like distant nebula before the thick, clammy shadows covered your face and took you completely.

And then they were gone.

Your body was so heavy, a horrible contrast to your blissful floating state from moments before. A sharp pain shot up your arm as you tried to move, to push yourself upright, and you were quick to forget that idea.

Something warmed your face from above, a gentle brightness that blinded you through closed eyes. Taking enough effort to confirm that something was very wrong, you stared up at a blue sky and smiled weakly. You’d almost forgotten how beautiful the world was.

The ground was rough beneath your palms and was no doubt the cause of the mess of scrapes and grazes that littered your skin. The tiny cuts stung like hell and left you feeling like you had slept in a bath of acid. A real possibility, you thought as you considered the nature of that slimy, black hell.

Around you, brick buildings stood tall and the relief that your machine hadn’t decimated the entire university was somewhat overshadowed by the very existence of the tall apartment blocks. You didn’t know every inch of the campus but were fairly sure you would remember such old fashioned accommodation against the brand new, million dollar buildings in which you worked.

Not only had you been flung to a part of the campus you didn’t know, the very air felt… different. Probably a result of your injuries but you were sure it was more than that. It was hot. Very hot. Some might describe it as a dry heat but only if they were pathological sadistic. God, it was like a bloody oven.

Groaning through every inch, you pushed yourself upright and shuffled slowly, painfully, back against the nearest wall. The bricks beneath you were scorched, as if you had landed there in a ball of flames. Your skin wasn’t burned though, so that was a positive at least.

Down the street, you heard children playing, bouncing a ball or something. You couldn’t quite angle yourself far enough to see until one accidentally kicked the football towards you. It rolled down the uneven path and stopped a few feet to your left.

The little boy who came to retrieve it eyed you curiously, no doubt mirroring your own expression. He was small, skinny, wore old fashioned clothes. Maybe his school was having a dress up day. You hoped that he would simply collect his ball and leave you be but instead he crouched down at your side and poked your side. “You alright, lady?”

“I was in an accident.”

“You hurt?”

“I’ll be fine. Where are we?”

His head fell to the side, something like amusement passing over his features. “You hit your head hard or something? South Hill Street, miss. Just round from the Cutts Building. You sure you’re alright? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“I am a doctor,” you mumbled. While a PhD in physics wouldn’t do much to fix your broken wrist, you clung to the title nonetheless. It was almost worth it to bask in the boy’s awe, at least until the throbbing worsened.

A gift from the universe, a breeze blew a newspaper your way and you snatched it out the air, eyes widening at what you saw. “Los Angeles? How the fu -” You cut yourself off as you remembered there were children present. “I was hundreds of miles away, how…”

One punch following another, you caught sight of the date in the centre of the paper. A dry laugh fell from your lips. This had to be a joke. 1947? There was no way. It was absurd. And yet the paper was brand new; the boy attested as such. You didn’t know anyone that would enlist a child to prank you like this. It was simply cruel.

So, your head fell back against the brick wall as you considered your options. One: you were in a coma and this was all a wild delusion. Two: you were dead and this was heaven. Three: As above but this was hell. Four: this was real. None of them were attractive options but only one didn’t fill you with complete dread.

Forcing a smile onto your face, mind racing, you asked, “If it’s forty-seven, that means Howard Stark lives here, right?”

“Nowhere round here, miss. Stark Mansion is out in La Cañada Flintridge with all the other top brass.”

“How do I get there?”

“I guess you could get a taxi? Won’t be cheap, though.”

Paying a taxi fare was the last of your worries right then. You assured the boy that you’d be able to cover the cost and thanked him for flagging down a cab for you. The driver made a not so subtle comment about your clothes (tight jeans and a torn, dirty blouse drew eyes in any time period) but followed it with, “Shouldn’t be surprised; Stark always goes for the crazy ones.”

The drive was shorter than you expected and, thankfully, the driver didn’t need directions to Stark’s mansion because you would have been no help whatsoever. Apparently, as he was more than happy to tell you, every cabby had made the trek at some point or another. Howard’s parties were legendary and brought great business to the area as people – rich, beautiful women, mostly – flew in from every corner of the globe to see him. Great tippers.

You had to laugh at the lack of subtlety. Well, he could drop all the hints he wanted; the cabby wasn’t going to get a single penny from you regardless.

Stark Mansion soon came into view and your breath caught in your throat. It was, actually, beautiful. For a moment, you could discard everything you had read about him, all the pictures you’d seen, and mistake him as a man of taste. The light stone building towered above you, a beautifully kept garden like a moat around it. It was light and bright and classy, truly stunning.

The taxi had barely pulled up the drive before the doors opened and a tall thin man in a sharp, grey suit stepped out into the light. How he could possibly wear a waistcoat and jacket in this heat was beyond you.

He took once glance at you in the back seat and said, “I’m regret to inform you that your journey out here is a wasted one, miss. Mr Stark is no longer in pursuit of a new director’s assistant. The position has been filled by another candidate. Perhaps you should return next week when it reopens again.”

“Director’s assistant? No, I need to talk to Howard about… Well… I can’t really explain.”

The man’s face paled slightly. Adjusting his red tie, he took a nervous step back and asked, “You aren’t…” Lowering his voice, he finished, “With child?”

You burst out laughing, unable to hold it back. The madness of your entire situation hit at once, brought forward as you lowered your walls around the English butler. There was something strangely comforting about him; you supposed that was why Stark kept him around, to pacify his broken hearted conquests.

“Did I say something amusing?”

“No, no. It’s just… I’m definitely not pregnant. Trust me. I still need to talk to him, though. It is important.”

He considered your request for a moment and then nodded. “Perhaps I could pass along a message.”

“This will sound crazy but I’m not – I’m not from around here. I work in a lab, see. I was experimenting with a substance called T2-AVM and it somehow opened a portal which sucked me inside and dropped me in central L.A.” God, this sounded crazy even to you. “I think the only way I can get back is by reopening the portal and to do that I will need Howard’s help.”

“Could you simply not hop on a plane?”

“If only. Where I’m from… A plane won’t get me home.”

“A boat, perhaps?”

You shook your head, disheartened but not surprised by the butler’s lack of belief in your story. Just as you were ready to have the taxi take you back to the city in the hope of finding space for a lab of your own, the one and only Howard Stark stumbled out the door.

Dressed in striped boxers and a silk dressing gown (possibly a woman’s, you couldn’t be sure), his hair stuck out at gravity-defying angles and a pair of dark sunglasses protected his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. He looked dramatically between you and the butler then lifted his glasses to repeat the assessment. “Jarvis, who is this beautiful creature?”

“She did not give her name, Sir.”

You stuck your hand out the window and tried hard not to roll your eyes when, instead of shaking it, Howard gently brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Pulling it swiftly back, you said, “Doctor L/N. I am an experimental physicist at – well, I suppose it doesn’t exist yet.” That caught Howard’s attention. “I’m afraid I need your help.”

“Jarvis, pay the man.” Opening the taxi door, Howard gestured towards his lovely home and said, “Doctor L/N, perhaps you’ll join me for breakfast.”

As Jarvis handed a few notes over to the driver (far more than the journey’s worth, you noted) you caught sight of his watch and frowned. “It’s four in the afternoon.”

“I just woke up.” Howard shrugged and offered you his arm. “Shall we?”

With a sharp smile, you shoved your hands in your jeans’’ pockets and said, “Lead the way, Mr Stark.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Why are you staring at me, Howard?”

Waving his burnt toast around – a choice, not bad butlering from Mr Jarvis, you were sure; in the few minutes you’d been in his presence you had already determined that he was a man that took immense pride in his duties – Howard said, “For one, you’ve not touched your breakfast.”

“Not hungry.”

Considering that you had travelled over 70 years back in time, you’d have thought that you would be starving. It was a long journey, after all. However, that was not the case. Perhaps it was because you’d only eaten lunch a few hours ago, before the meltdown of your experiment and your arrival here. Maybe it was something more sinister, something to do with that dark dimension you’d travelled through. Either way, you didn’t want to dwell too hard on the possible side effects of your trip quite yet.

Howard raised his eyebrows, disbelief clear, but quickly shrugged it away and helped himself to a piece of watermelon from your plate. “Fair enough. The other reason is that you’re very, very beautiful.”

A few steps away, Mr Jarvis rolled his eyes. You did not have the luxury of hiding your reaction behind Howard’s large head but his ego was apparently so large that he did not take offence by the fact you simple stared back blankly in return. “Understand if I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?”

You gestured to your torn shirt and filthy arms. “I’m not exactly looking my best. And you spend your days surrounded by L.A.’s most beautiful starlets. I’m definitely not in that league.”

“And yet you still take my breath away.”

His insistence was almost amusing, especially as he seemed to be giving the watermelon as much attention as he was you, but it couldn’t be allowed to continue. You needed Howard to focus on your situation and appreciate your mind, not spend his time thinking up ways to get you into his bed. When it came to people like him – you’d read the history books, his behaviour was incredibly well documented – you had to take the blunt approach.

So, that was exactly what you did. Taking a bite off a strawberry, a champagne soaked strawberry no less, you said cheerily, “I’m a lesbian.”

“I went there a few months ago to scout for a location. Wonderful place.”

“No – I’m… I’m not from Lesbos. I’m gay. Sapphic. Attracted to women. Not attracted to men.”

Howard and Mr Jarvis shared a less than subtle glance, and it took your brain a horrendously long time to remember that people simply hadn’t open in the 40s. Hell, you still came across bigots in 2020 but you realised too late that coming straight out with it (as straight as you could be, anyway) was in retrospect probably not the wisest plan.

Thankfully, their shock soon passed. You had no time to read Mr Jarvis’s reaction as he disappeared to answer a telephone call but Howard’s was plain as day. It was neither horror nor disgust, more curious. He leant forward, arms heavy on the table, and said, “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

“I’m really not.”

He considered it for a moment before straightening up, a lazy grin on his face. “So, women?”

“Yeah. Women.”

“Well, okay, then. You’re still beautiful, regardless.” Plucking a strawberry from your plate, despite having multiple on his own, Howard said, “So, tell me about your experiments. What you were doing, how this portal was created. Maybe I can work out what we’re dealing with.”

Already many steps ahead of him, you slipped the ring off your finger and handed it over to Howard. He made a quip about not being ready for marriage but was instantly fascinated by the alloy. Holding it up to the bright Californian sun, he tossed it in the air a few times to test the weight, tried to bend the thing band and then, much to your horror, attempted to crush it between his teeth.

“T2-AVM,” you explained. You gave a quick rundown of the recorded properties and described the experimental chamber you’d created back in your lab. He listened attentively, childishly giddy as you scribbled down some of the most basic maths and programming which allowed the machinery to function.

“What you’re describing is impossible,” Howard pointed out, a wide grin on his face. He stared at the dark ring like it held the answers to the universe, or at least all the wealth he could possibly want.

The thought of letting him loose with the alien compound caused your chest to tighten. The damage that simply being here could do to the fabric of reality was bad enough without giving Howard Stark the means to make the ripples of your presence into giant tidal waves.

Gently but firmly taking back your ring, you asked Howard seriously, “Will you help me get back home?”

“Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing better to do this week.” Before you could point out that it had taken almost a year to build your own machine, with 21st century equipment and resources, Howard hollered, “Jarvis!”

The butler appeared with such haste that you wondered whether he had just been standing there all along, so still that he practically became invisible. Now that would be a skill, although probably not enough to join The Avengers seeing what insanity they were capable of nowadays.

Straightening his waistcoat (the blazer now wisely unbuttoned), Mr Jarvis said, “Yes, Sir?”

“Clear my schedule.”

“Sir, you are supposed to be meeting with the head of MGM tomorrow.”

Howard waved his hand dismissively. Oh, to have the riches to blow off someone that important. You recalled the guilt that ate you up from the inside every time you’d had to push back a meeting with the head of your department, a docile old man with literally nothing else to do but stare out the window and watch the rest of his life float by with the clouds. The thought of disrupting a meeting with such an important source of funding left your struggling scientist heart tight.

“Reschedule it. We’re going to invent time travel.”

“Technically, Sir, Doctor L/N has already invented it.”

“Mr Jarvis is right. I know exactly how to make it work.”

So, exactly might have been an overstatement. You had a general theory which was able to send a few gold particles a few nanoseconds into the future. Hopefully, you’d be able to adjust that formula to account for your considerably higher mass and an exponentially longer trip into the future before Howard realised that you were winging this.

Best case scenario was that Howard got bored after a week and left you with all the money and resources you needed to work alone on the project. Worst case was that he got bored, withdrew his funding and support and left you to scramble through time alone. Or for you to remain here for the rest of your life. God, you didn’t want to suffer through the twentieth century alone. Or at all, really. 2020 had it’s problems but it was really pretty great compared to where you were stuck now.

“How far do you need to go? Back to the future? Hmm, that’d make a good title for a picture, don’t you think, Jarvis?”

Cutting that off before it could go any further, you answered, “Twenty-twenty. And before you ask, no. I won’t tell you anything about it.”

“Mr Stark doesn’t tend to consider the future too closely,” Jarvis mused, cleaning your now empty plate from table. “He more prefers to live in the present and deal with consequences later.”

You sat back in your chair and regarded the two men with curiosity. There weren’t many butlers who could get away with such a sharp comment and be met with little more than an amused, almost smug, grin. Apparently that was precisely their relationship, though, for Jarvis simply poured Howard another cup of coffee (definitely laced with some kind of alcohol) and wandered back to the house without another word.

The afternoon sun like fire on your skin and the pool behind you was calling your name. Figuring that Howard would hardly mind, you swapped your seat at the table for one by the edge of the swimming pool and dangled your toes in the cool water. Oh, it was absolutely heaven. You reached down to roll up your jeans only to find that, as you did, the seams tore straight up the side.

“So much for the craftmanship of the future,” Howard said. “You should probably clean up before we start work. No offence, L/N, but you do smell. Jarvis will show you to one of the guest rooms.”

Once again summoned by name, the butler appeared in the doorway and gestured for you to follow. He didn’t mention the trail of wet footprints you left as you marched through the mansion but you had no doubts that Jarvis would race back to wipe them up the moment you were comfortably deposited in one of the numerous guest rooms.

“Just how many people can this house fit?”

“I do believe that we managed to sleep almost one hundred after the charity gala last year but this residence has since become a more private abode for myself and my wife. Mr Stark rarely stays here during the spring and summer. You are, actually, quite lucky to have arrived when he was around.”

“Where is your wife, Mr Jarvis?”

A soft smile spread across the man’s face as he thought of her. He absent-mindedly stroked his tie, a gift, you suspected, from the woman in question. “She is currently visiting family but I’m glad to say she is set to return next week.”

“Can’t wait to meet her.”

“I am certain she will be charmed to meet you too, Doctor L/N.” He stopped outside an unassuming door – at least it was compared to some of the others. Some were decorated with exquisite carvings, clearly brought in from elsewhere in the world, but this was far more simple, far more to your tastes.

Jarvis twisted the knob and opened the door for you, gesturing to each feature in turn. “You are welcome to use these rooms for the entirety of your stay. There is a small bathroom to the right. You will find towels and toiletries under the sink. There’s a phone on the bedside table, although perhaps that is not so unusual in your time.”

You patted him on the shoulder, very much resisting the urge to run and jump onto the enormous bed. If this was a ‘small’ guest room than you daren’t dream what the master rooms were like. Yes, the décor was a little dated for your tastes but it was probably on the front line of fashion for the forties. There was something quite sweet about it all, the floral bedsheets and delicate vases, really.

Maintaining a semblance of sanity, you walked over to the bed like an adult and perched on the edge of the mattress, barely able to keep from moaning at the absolute comfort of it. Honestly, it was like floating on a cloud. You turned the heavy phone towards you and toyed with the number dial, amazed that people in the past had ever coped with such basic technology. “You’re right. It’s not so unusual but my phone is a little different.”

“One can only imagine how technology will progress in the next seventy years.”

“You’ve no idea.”

“Well,” Jarvis said. “Do not hesitate to ask for anything you need to make your stay more comfortable. Of course, if it has yet to be invented then I may struggle to get my hands on it but I will endeavour to do my best.”

You couldn’t quite work out whether Jarvis was taking the piss or was genuinely earnest but you decided that you liked him either way. You thanked him for all of his effort then remembered one rather important thing. “I need money.”

“You do not need to worry about that, Doctor. Mr Stark will cover the costs of your machinery and you are his guest here. What else could you need?”

“Clothes, Jarvis.”

“Ah, yes. I am sure that Ana wouldn’t mind if you borrowed a few of her dresses until we can you some of your own.”

“I’d rather have some of Howard’s, if it’s all the same.”

Jarvis turned his head in a sharp double take but kept whatever judgement he held to himself. You almost felt for the poor man. An hour ago, he was going about his normal life – whatever life with Howard was considered normal, at least – and now he was faced with a time travelling lesbian capable of matching Stark’s genius level intelligence. It had to be quite an adjustment to make but he was doing a great job, taking it all in his stride without a complaint or mean comment.

Nodding, for that was really all he could do, Jarvis said, “I shall find you some clothes from last year’s collection and leave them by your door. Is there anything else, Doctor L/N?”

“That’s all, thanks. Although, you really don’t need to call me Doctor. Y/N is just fine.”

Shockingly, that was where Jarvis drew the line. He insisted on formality and you were hardly in the position to refuse. He left with a promise to return shortly with clothes for you to wear and shut the door quietly behind him.

Finally alone, you fell back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, the weight of your situation rushing in. Trapped in 1947, in a world where your very existence would incite anger from almost everyone you met. All going well, you could hide here in Stark’s mansion and keep as much distance from the rest of society as possible. It would also minimise the ripples you caused to the timeline, which was an entirely different but equally severe consequence you had to deal with, while also protecting you from the harsh judgement of the time.

Still, there was plenty of time to panic about that later. Right now, the large bath tub called to you and the need to scrub the thick oil from your skin (entirely in your mind, left over shadows from the dark dimension) was impossible to ignore. So, you turned on the tap and pushed all other thoughts from your mind.

As the steam filled both the bathroom and your lungs, you stepped into the warm water and sighed. It didn’t matter that it was as hot as a desert outside. This was wonderful. Your tense muscles softened, all angst and fear draining from your body. All you needed was a glass of wine and this would be perfect. Closing your eyes, you heard Jarvis set the clothes outside the door and relaxed further into the water thinking that maybe the 1940s weren’t so terrible after all.


	4. Chapter 4

As you’d suspected, Howard grew bored of working through complicated equations within two weeks. You understood entirely; back in 2020, you could have fed the numbers into a computer and allowed the super processors to work through the data and predict the outcome after each miniscule change. Here, however, you had to repeat each calculation by hand every time and it was mentally taxing to say the least. Annoyingly, you couldn’t even begin construction until these basic calculations were complete, and that was when you’d lost your generous host.

Stark disappeared about six weeks ago with a pretty young assistant who had, you could confidently say, definitely fancied you more than she had him. The draw of money, power and influence was strong, though, especially when combined with the shame of being attracted to the same sex in this time period, and she’d gone to the Bahamas with him instead of breaking in the desk in the lab with you. According to Jarvis, she’d then flown back to the States within three days when Howard replaced her with a beautiful local. You’d call him a fickle man but relationships had never really been your thing either so you almost understood.

In the time since Howard left, you had achieved, in scientific terms, squat. An argument could even be made for diddly squat but you were, despite your nature, trying to look on the bright side of things. The main conclusion you’d reached in those long six weeks was that 1947 sucked.

Some days were, admittedly, better than others. When you’d first met Ana and she made you her famous (at least in her small social circle) goulash to welcome you, that had been a great day. By far the best meal you’d had in months, both in the past and future, you were quick to believe her claims that it was the best goulash in the world. The wine had flowed as easily as the conversation and you’d gone to sleep with a smile on your face, feeling accepted and welcomed into their home.

However, some days the weight of your loneliness sat like a tonne of bricks on your chest. Mr Jarvis hadn’t told Ana that you were from the future, a decision you understood. The fewer people that knew the better. Instead, he told her that you were simply a scientist working with Howard on a top secret project – a story which you were convinced he was forcing himself to believe too in order to make your existence less of a headache.

It wasn’t that he outright avoided you in any way but Jarvis always seemed a little more on edge when he was around you. You were a lot to process; a gay time traveller from the future, parading around the mansion in Howard’s suits and speaking of things that no mid century woman would have dared, was definitely not something that he would ever have been expected to come across.

Acknowledging that didn’t make the growing distance easier to bear, not when he was the only one around that knew the truth about you, and the sideways glances at the dinner table had long since started to grate your nerves. You’d taken to eating alone beside the pool, willing to face the ‘dry heat’ (which you still maintained was like being stuck inside Hell’s furnace) to avoid the judgement.

Three days in to your self imposed exile, Ana came down to the lab baring a plate of delicately prepared sandwiches and a pot of fresh tea. She set them down on the edge of your worktable, her forehead wrinkling as she took in the mess of scrap notes that surrounded her like an ocean of impossible maths. “Dear me! Doctor L/N, I can’t seem to find you amongst all these papers.”

“It’s a mess, I know.” You poked your head out from beneath the workbench and thanked her as she moved the sandwiches and tea down onto your level.

Ana searched for a space to sit but, unable to make space without moving your papers, opted to balance on her cute little heels instead. Not quite hiding the note of concern in her voice, she said softly, “If I may ask, what exactly are you doing down on the floor?”

“Thinking.”

“Of course. I should have seen it immediately.”

You rolled your eyes, muscles groaning as you pushed yourself upright. Your bones clicked when you reached up to touch the underside of the table and traced the swirling grain. “The pattern in the wood reminds me of the way T2-AVM moves in its superfluid state.”

Supportive despite her ignorance of fourth dimension physics, Ana smiled and said, “Well, so long as it helps, I suppose. Would you like me to bring a few cushions down to make the floor more comfortable? It would be no trouble.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the sandwiches.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Doctor L/N?” Her directness shocked you but there was nothing other than a well meaning concern in her eyes. Ana touched your shoulder and said seriously, “I might not be as smart as you or Mr Stark but I do have eyes. What has my dear husband done to upset you?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“That is obviously not the case, Doctor. Please, I shall quite enjoy telling him off. I find it is always good fun to remind him of his manners now and again.”

“Honestly, Mr J and I are fine.”

The words sounded hollow even to you, tinged with resentment that wasn’t entirely directed towards Mr Jarvis, rather every person that had ever treated you badly on account of being who you truly were. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out a deep sigh and focused your attention on the tiny sandwiches instead of meeting Ana’s gaze.

It had been so nice to have her as a friend here in 1947. You feared that telling her the truth would change the way she saw you, affect her behaviour in the same way that it had her husbands. They weren’t bad people, that much was obvious, but being a product of the times didn’t make being shunned by those you liked hurt any less.

“If you prefer your sandwiches without crusts, you do not need to tear them off. I can cut them away in the future.”

You set the shredded sandwich back on the china plate and said, “When I first got here, I told Howard and Jarvis something about myself that a lot of people can’t deal with. I thought he was okay with it but obviously not.”

“What ever could be so bad?”

“I don’t… love men.”

Ana chuckled. “I can certainly understand why! They are quite annoying, all considering. Dear Mr Jarvis included, at times. Very few can look after themselves. I do quite understand why a young woman would do without one.”

“It’s not that. Although, it’s not not that, either. I fall in love with women.”

You braced yourself for her reaction, good or bad, but her expression didn’t change. It simply remained calm, collected, the face of grace. You made a mental note to never bet against Ana for her poker face rivalled that of a spy’s.

She touched your shoulder, comforting and almost motherly. “I did suppose that was what you meant to imply.”

“It doesn’t, I don’t know, horrify you? Scare you? Make you uncomfortable?”

“Not particularly. Sometimes the world isn’t ready to see certain relationships, and people act out unfairly, but I think that love can be real regardless of what colours or beliefs or genders are involved.”

“You are a woman ahead of your time, Mrs J.”

“As are you, Doctor, if rumours are to be believed. Mr Jarvis talks in his sleep,” she added, a fond smile playing on her lips. “Is that what you are working on down here? A way to return to your own time?”

You nodded and gestured wildly to the mess around you. “As you can see, it’s going amazingly.”

“Perhaps you need a break. You have been down here for quite a while now. I always tell Mr Jarvis to take a walk when he gets like this and cannot see the woods from the trees. We could take tea in the garden if you like. That always clears my mind.” Predicting your response with telepathic precision, Ana said, “The California heat does take some getting used to, I admit. We could take tea on the upstairs terrace, if you prefer. It is the coolest part of the house in the afternoon.”

Genuinely grateful for her effort, you accepted Ana’s invitation. As you collected your tea pot and untouched sandwiches (except for the torn crusts), a little of the weight on your chest lifted in her presence. Those barriers you’d built up over the past few weeks started to crumble, not entirely but enough to allow hope to slip in through the cracks.

You followed Ana up the stairs and winced at the sunlight; fifty hours in the basement lab with no natural light had taken their toll. A car pulled up the drive and, by your side, Ana straightened up and checked her hair in a passing mirror (it was perfect as ever). “That would be Mr Jarvis,” she said cheerfully. “Back from the airport.”

“He went on a trip?”

“Goodness, no. Edwin would never leave without his lucky socks. We have another guest staying at the house and he went to collect her. Heaven knows he would never let her take a cab.”

Eyes finally adjusting to the light, you peered out the window and frowned. Surely the lack of sleep was catching up to you. “Ana, why is there a flamingo in the back of your husband’s car?”

“I suppose that would be Bernard. Edwin was supposed to collect him today too. You see, Mr Stark has a fondness for exotic life and on occasion he brings it back home with him.”

“This is normal?”

“Perfectly. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll fit in with the rest of the menagerie soon enough.”

There really wasn’t much you could say to that so you simply remained silent. Traipsing after Ana, you passed through the lobby on your way up the main staircase and paused to allow her to greet her husband. She threw her arms around Jarvis and pulled him into a tight embrace, by far the most enthusiastic hugger you’d seen for a long time.

Jarvis set down his guest’s suitcases and buried his head in the crook of her neck, softening into Ana’s arms. As heels clicked against the stone floor, he pulled away, that soft look of adoration for his wife still remaining. Straightening his waistcoat, the butler was too slow to warn his guest of Ana’s affections and she was caught off guard by a welcoming hug of her own.

As Ana stepped back, you got your first look at the guest and felt your heart stop. She was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Dark hair pulled back in perfect curls, her red sunglasses sat atop her head and exposed her captivating expression. She regarded Ana with amusement, taking compliments in her words even through obvious surprise.

In a rare show for the time, she wore trousers and a shirt, precisely fitted by the best tailors in town, no doubt. There was a warmth about her as the afternoon sunlight illuminated her perfect skin but it was the curiosity with which she regarded you that most held your attention.

She stepped forward and stretched out her hand, introducing herself. “Peggy Carter. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I, uh… God, it’s…” You giggled, although it sounded terribly pained. “I know. I’m Doctor L/N. Y/N.”

You offered your own hand, only to realise a moment later that you were still holding the tea pot. In attempting to swap grips, your sleep deprived brain chose that moment to exercise a severe lack of co-ordination and you accidentally poured the tea straight down the front of Peggy’s trousers.

You gawked in embarrassment – definitely not the kind of first impression you wanted her to have of you. As you frantically pulled scrap pieces of paper from your pocket for something to use as a wipe, you only succeeded in pouring more tea over the floor, her super stylish shoes and down your own clothes as well.

“I’m so – I’m not normally -”

“It’s alright. I’ve been travelling in these all day and it was almost time for a change anyway.” You heard Peggy’s smile in her voice but didn’t see it, far too horrified to look up and meet her gaze. You imagined that it was a stunning sight, though.

Mr Jarvis appeared with a pair of handkerchiefs to dab the worst from your clothes as Ana plucked the teapot from your grip to save any more from spilling. She cradled your elbow and guided you towards the stairs, muttering, “I didn’t realise you were so clumsy, Doctor.”

Your brain no longer addled by Peggy’s presence, each step away bringing a painful clarity, you groaned, “I’m not usually. God, she’ll never speak to me again.”

“From all I’ve heard of Edwin’s stories, Miss Carter has a soft heart. I’m certain she will forgive you in no time. Now, why don’t you change and I will brew us a fresh pot of tea for lunch. I’ll meet you on the balcony?”

“I’d rather just jump from it.”

“Y/N! There is no need to be so dramatic. It was just a little accident.”

Promising not to actually jump out the window, however tempting, you told Ana you’d meet her in a couple of minutes once you’d freshened up. The door clicked shut but instead of heading to the bathroom, you slid down the wooden length, head in hands.

Peggy Carter. Hero, brave leader, founder of SHIELD, one of the most captivating women you’d ever seen. Your childhood icon, your first gay awakening, now living under the same roof as you.

Oh, this was bad.

Very, very bad indeed.


	5. Chapter 5

Bernard was wide eyed, his gaze unflinching and truly rather disconcerting, as one long leg slipped through the fence that separated the menagerie from the terrace. Those bright white eyes stared straight into the depths of your soul, a disappointed god among mortals. You could feel the sharp inhalation as he shimmied through the bars only to get stuck half way through. His head jolted from left to right, surveying the tricky situation.

All he had to do was wriggle free. His silky pink feathers would slide against the metal bars and he would be free to explore the terrace, to swim in the pool and disrupt your morning up close and personal instead of from a distance as he had been. A little momentum was all that stopped you and the almost omnipotent bird from crossing paths. He could do it. You almost wanted him to do it. Fighting a flamingo could only be easier than wrestling experimental temporal mechanics with nothing but pen and paper.

You sat back in your chair by the pool, the shade of the balcony overhead protecting you from the early morning heat (yes, even at 9am the temperature was already verging on unbearable), willing Bernard on. Attuned to your support, Bernard once again met your gaze with the intensity of a wrestler-come-actor chasing an Oscar nomination, and screamed.

Leaping to your feet, you ran over to Bernard and pulled him loose. The moment you set him down on the terrace, he balanced on one leg and stared at the swimming pool, practically mesmerised by the water. Then, most surprisingly, he turned back to you and honked right in your ear.

You scrambled back, rubbing your ear, and watched him intently, waiting for the moment that he tried to peck you death. Bernard circled you, corning you onto the porch and then turned his back on you entirely to dunk his head in the pool. His head remained under water for a surprisingly mesmerising amount of time before he popped up and squawked.

“I feel you bud.”

“Bernard!” Mr Jarvis met the flamingo’s blank gaze. He set his cup of tea on the table by the door and stormed towards the pink bird without fear. Like a master zookeeper, Jarvis herded Bernard around the pool and through the gate back to the menagerie.

It went very quiet for a long moment before absolute mayhem erupted. From the other side of the fence came a symphony of squawking and screaming and you couldn’t quite tell which noises came from Jarvis and which came from the bird. Favouring self preservation over heroics, you closed your eyes, sat back in your chair and imagined the epic fight that was occurring mere feet away.

At the slamming of the gate and the clunk of the heavy lock, you opened your eyes and gasped. “My god, Mr J! Did Bernard eat your suit?”

Stood before you, Jarvis was in nothing more than… Well, you weren’t sure that any words in the English language could accurately describe the sight. The closest you could compare it to was that of a circus strongman, minus the muscles. A skin tight tank top, socks half way up his legs and shorts that showed far more of the man, or any man, than you ever desired to see.

“I admit, the attire is a little primitive but I’ve found that free range of motion is imperative.”

You could hardly believe your ears. “Wait. You chose to wear that?”

“Of course. After my adventures with Miss Carter last year, I began a regimented fitness routine. I decided to pursue the deadly arts. I practise every morning.”

“Far be it from me to stop you.” You returned your attention to your notebook but it was difficult to focus with Jarvis hovering at the foot of the balcony. He didn’t shift even after you glanced up, the hint obviously lost on him, so you asked stiffly, “Can I help you?”

He glanced at the chair opposite you, hesitating. You hoped for a blessed moment that he would simply change his mind and go about his day but unfortunately he chose to take a seat. “I was made aware by my wife that my attitude towards you these past weeks has caused you upset and I deeply regret that.”

You shook your head. That wasn’t good enough and, if his averted gaze was anything to go by, he knew it too. “Try again.”

Jarvis straightened. He pursed his lips then said, “You are a most unusual woman, Doctor L/N. Far unlike anyone I have ever encountered before. I do not understand you nor do I imagine that I ever will. You must understand that your presence here is, by its very nature, disruptive.”

He held up a finger, cutting you off before you could even begin. “However, the rudeness and suspicion with which I had treated you was unnecessary and a poor reflection on the man I try to be. I am truly sorry for my behaviour. You have been nothing but polite to Ana and myself, and I do very much admire the contempt you hold for Mr Stark. I hope that you will forgive me and that we can move forward as friends.”

Hand over heart, you leaned back in your chair and said, “That was beautiful.”

“There is no need for sarcasm, Doctor.”

“I’m serious, Mr J. No one talks that way back home except for the pretentious twats that hang around the campus art centre and quote Hemingway or shit.”

Eyebrow raised, Mr Jarvis commented, “I suppose with such colourful language, the future has no need for heart fell apologies.”

The chair scraped against the patio as he rose. You returned to your equations, only to find the numbers dancing across the page, a mind of their own. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you released a deep sigh and followed Jarvis around to his training area. It wasn’t as if you’d crept up on him but the butler still jumped when he turned and found you watching him. Obviously his ‘deadly arts’ training didn’t focus on observational skills.

“Spar with me.” He hesitated and you glanced down at your clothes, purposefully misunderstanding. You unbuttoned Howard’s blazer and tossed it over the railing then rolled your sleeves up to your elbows. “I know I won’t have the same range of motion as your… wonderful training outfit gives you but I’ll be fine, yeah?”

“Are you quite certain that you want to do this? My training has turned me into a fighting machine.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded earnestly. “I’m sure.”

Despite your initial reservations, Jarvis was a surprisingly proficient fighter. Memories from long evenings at boxing matches with an ex girlfriend suggested that he had a technically great form but your agility and scrappiness posed more than a fair challenge. Where he relied on set patterns of movement, you just did what felt natural and got a good share of hits on the man.

Your upper hand slipped when Jarvis finally adjusted his technique. He lowered his arms, widened his stance and began on the offensive, rather than simply reacting to your blows. That was far more fun. Ducking to the right, you dodged a surprisingly forceful punch and slammed into him, sending him to the ground. He hit the training mat with a thud and sank into the ground, defeated but visibly impressed.

Offering him a hand up, the world suddenly inverted and a groan passed your lips as you landed on your back. Jarvis hovered above you, pinning you down with his entire weight, victorious as anything. He cheerfully claimed that this was his pièce de résistance: the tortoise of fury.

A ridiculous name for a ridiculous move but you had to admit that it was remarkably effective. And while he specifically did nothing for you, you found your mind wandering towards scenarios where you found yourself on top of one particular SSR Agent. Suddenly you could imagine an entire range of exciting situations that the tortoise of fury could get you and Peggy into. “Teach me.”

As Jarvis lumbered off you, he offered a hand and shook his head. “I’m afraid it is far too advanced a move for a novice.”

“I kicked your ass! Come on. Teach me.”

Reluctantly, Jarvis shared with you his patented move. It took a few attempts to get the correct movements but in the end it was simply a matter of mathematics and physics. Get a handle on his weight, calculate the right angle, apply sufficient force and wham! Jarvis was on the floor beneath you and you were now a master of the tortoise of fury.

“Good god, what are you two doing?”

Peggy! You rolled off of Jarvis’s chest and ran a hand through your tousled hair with a grin. Smoothing out your shirt, you sat upright and said, “Mr J and I were just sparring. You’ve gotta be careful, you know. He’s a self professed killing machine. Lethal in battle”

Jarvis brushed his hands against his thighs, pretending – badly – not to be completely chuffed by your teasing compliments. It was, honestly, quite sweet and you felt for the man, trapped in a life of servitude to Howard when his hunger for adventure shone so brightly. “Doctor L/N herself is quite the fighter.”

“I had no idea your interests were so diverse.” She wasn’t mocking you but there was a definite amusement in Peggy’s tone, as if she couldn’t quite puzzle you out.

“I’m much more than just a pretty face.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips and Peggy stepped closer, directly into a beam of sunlight that illuminated her face like an angel’s. Those soft curls hung on her cheeks, her perfect lipstick teased you nearer. She absolutely rocked a boiler suit and there was no denying the way her gaze lingered over your body as she took in your own look.

It definitely wasn’t the first time a beautiful woman had admired your body but something about Peggy’s gaze made the skin on the back of your neck tingle. A quiet confidence, an unshakable desire to take what she wanted. To take you.

Were you projecting? Almost certainly. And yet… As Peggy lifted her gaze back to yours, a thoughtful expression on her face, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe you had a chance there after all.

From the other side of the fence, like a devil’s cry, Bernard honked and the spell shattered. His face and evil eyes once again visible through the bars that separated the menagerie from this part of the estate. You scowled across the pool at the pink menace but he did not seem bothered to have interrupted you at all.

Ana appeared not two seconds later. She glanced between you and Peggy, a knowing smile on her face as she pieced together the shattered moment. You mimicked Bernard’s intensity and glared daggers at her however it only seemed to confirm her suspicions. “I see you’ve been doing rounds with my husband, Doctor. I do hope you won’t steal my place as his partner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs J.”

She hummed softly. “Yes, I suppose there are plenty of other people you would rather spar with instead.”

Tilting her chin up for a sweet kiss from Jarvis, Ana softened with her husband’s touch. You raised an eyebrow as she then reached around to tap his bum, once again realising that Ana Jarvis was far more interesting than she initially appeared. “Tea’s ready.”

Smiling lightly, Peggy looked to Jarvis and asked, “If you wouldn’t mind slipping into something a little less… athletic, I could actually use a ride to the office.”

“What case are you working on? Anything interesting?” You grabbed the towel Jarvis had folded neatly over the rail and wiped the sweat from your face. The California warmth was to blame; it hadn’t been that intense a work out with Jarvis, and yet you were sweating like a pig. Bloody dry heat. Setting down the towel, a tingle ran down the back of your neck. Peggy regarded you with a cautious glare and you suddenly realised then that she had never actually told you about her business in L.A. or revealed any information that might have suggested her true occupation as a spy.

You could hardly reveal the truth that you’d read about her in books as a child, seen her pictures in museums across the country and dreamed of joining her on adventures with SHIELD. Hell, they didn’t even exist yet, probably nothing more than a scribbled note on the bottom of some higher-up’s memorandum for potential departments post the SSR.

Her expression grew more guarded with every second and Jarvis tugging on his ear most certainly did nothing to maintain the illusion of normality. Peggy took a step forward, her heel clicking forcefully against the patio. “You know, Doctor, I don’t believe I caught your reasons for being here yesterday.”

“I’m working with Howard on a project.”

“Care to share the details?”

Slowly, you shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

“I assure you, Miss Carter, that Doctor L/N poses no threat to you,” Jarvis said, however neither you nor Peggy broke your gaze to acknowledge him.

There was something terrifyingly dangerous about the way Peggy moved. Powerful in body and mind, you knew that if she truly wanted to that she could force an answer from your lips. Any other time, you may have indulged yourself in all the possible ways she could have done that, all the many ways you might have relinquished that information. Not then, though.

She was angry – although exactly who that was directed towards you couldn’t tell. More distressingly, Peggy was concerned for the Jarvises’ safety. And if there was one thing you knew about Peggy Carter it was that she would do anything to protect her friends. You were a stranger to her, to them truly, and visibly didn’t belong there. Adding in your unwillingness to share, your knowledge of her secret operations, and there was no telling what she’d do.

You didn’t want to share the truth but your options were dwindling fast. If she took you in to the SSR for questioning – or whatever they called the brutal beatings in this time – they would lock you up if you actually revealed the truth. Brand you delusion and throw away the key. Then you would never be able to get home. If you ran, you all but confirmed her suspicions that you were no good. And she’d find you anyway. That left you with only one viable option.

You stepped back, the extra foot doing little to ease the tension. Slowly, deliberately, you reached around to pick up your notebook. You handed it over and imagined yourself before the panel of peers at the university, describing your work in another desperate attempt to be taken seriously. “I’m an experimental physicist. My focus is on a substance called T2-AVM and its unusual properties. My latest experiment focused on shifting subatomic particles of a gold composite through the fourth dimension but there was an accident and now I’m here relying on the goodwill of Howard Stark to fund the continuation of my research.”

Peggy flicked through the pages, forehead crumpled at the complicated equations. “And all of that means what, exactly?”

“I built a machine using alien technology to send things through time. It blew up and I woke up here two months ago.”

She processed your words with a blank expression. Surely, after all the crap she’d seen with the SSR, it wasn’t too much of a leap to believe your story? The silent seconds that followed stretched an eternity before Peggy finally handed back the notebook. “You’re from the future?”

“Almost seventy years, yeah. You can’t tell anyone else.”

“I doubt they would believe me. I’m having trouble believing it myself, honestly.” Peggy looked you over once again, clinical and devoid of any real emotion. Uncomfortable hardly began to describe the way you felt. It was almost as if she regarded you an attraction in a zoo, another exotic creature from Howard’s menagerie. Maybe that was all you really were.

Reluctantly, Peggy nodded. What it meant, you had no idea.

She turned to Ana and Jarvis, a soft smile on her face but the order more than clear in her voice. “Ana, I’m afraid we will have to skip tea this morning. Mr Jarvis, if you would, please prepare the car to take me to work.”

They shot you worried glances over her shoulder but disappeared into the house regardless. You didn’t blame them; Peggy was a force to be reckoned with. That observation was only compounded when she swung back around you. “If you are telling the truth -”

“I am.”

“I don’t trust you. However, for some reason, it appears that Howard and the Jarvises do. For now, that will have to be good enough.”

It was hardly flying praise but you’d take anything you could get at this point.

“Your work with… T2-AVM. You said it had unusual properties. You have a lot of experience with strange compounds?” You nodded. “I’ll take you to the lab at the SSR. You can assist the techs with their analysis of our own unusual substance.”

Lips pursed, you shook your head. “I’m used to multimillion dollar spectrophotometers and analytical machinery. I don’t know what I’ll be able to tell you from a few test tube experiments and basic readings.”

“You said you’re a genius. Prove it.” Peggy’s eyes glittered in the morning sun as she realised she’d gotten you. There was no way you could turn down such a direct challenge to your intellect.

“Fine! I will. And when I do, I want something in return.”

Peggy hummed, all of that distrust still present but now hidden beneath a blanket of amusement. “You’re hardly in a position to make demands, Doctor.”

“Indulge me.” You took her raised eyebrow as permission to continue. “Have dinner with me. Tonight.”

It was such a small reaction that you could swear you had imagined it. But no. Before your eyes, a dusting of pink spread across Peggy’s cheeks. Her red lips parted at the sheer force of your request and the silence once again took on a thickness that had her struggling to draw a breath. A simple nod confirmed her agreement.

Gathering herself, Peggy stood back on her heels and said, “You should change.”

“You’re the only woman at the SSR, aren’t you?”

“One of the few field agents, yes.”

“And how many women work in the labs?” Her silence answered for her. “Exactly. You’ll get less questions if you send me in as a man. The less attention I get here the better.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Tires rolled over gravel on the other side of the wall as Jarvis drove a car around to the front. You grabbed your blazer, thought misogynistic, manly thoughts and headed out to meet the butler. Make it through the day as a bloke and you had a date – a dinner, you chastised yourself, not a date – with Peggy Carter. There was nothing the universe could throw at you to bring your mood down now.


End file.
